Seeking death
by DarkRose1902
Summary: A dead man in an office block reminds Jane of a period just after his wife and daughter were murdered; a time when he wanted to know how she felt and then just die.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Seeking death  
**Author:** DarkRose1902  
**Fandom:** The Mentalist  
**Genre: **Angst  
**Rating:** M (probably overly-cautious)  
**Warning: **a murder,suicidal thoughts, a visit to a BDSM club, canon death & rape but nothing explicit  
**Spoilers: **General  
**Summery:** A dead man in an office block reminds Jane of a period just after his wife and daughter were murdered; a time when he wanted to know how she felt and then just die.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters you recognise but do own the ones you don't. This is my way of loving them.

Story

Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon got out the car at the same time and introduced themselves to a waiting policewoman. Kimball Cho and Wayne Rigsby hurried out a second car to join them. A crowd of workers milled about outside the tall glass office building they strolled into and a dead man in a suit was splayed over a sofa in the lobby; his legs were parted and arms rested on the sofa back. It was an obvious seductive pose. His face was made up with a sloppy and garish make up; the red of his lipstick matched the blood staining his white shirt.

"Name?" Lisbon questioned the police officer.

"George Edwards." A young and suited man answered. He was facing them and the body but carefully not looking at it. His suit was well tailored and he held an expensive briefcase in both hands in front of him.

"And you are?"

"I'm the office manager … Artie … Arthur Mason." His eyes drifted down to the body before shooting up again, distressed.

"George is … was my brother in law,"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Lisbon said,

"Can you explain the position of his body?" Jane said as tactful as ever,

"George is gay. But only his family and close friends know … knew. Christ he was only twenty-eight!"

"No one here?"

"No. You know how offices can be,"

"No what are they like?" Jane asked leaning forward seriously and George smiled nervously,

"Not exactly PC." He said quietly.

"I see," Jane said finally leaning back,

"So someone here would probably react badly if they found out?"

"I guess … maybe," Arthur looked distraught at the thought and gazed outside, watching his employees milling about with a frown,

"But I don't know how they would've found out. George was always so careful. He had this club he went to a couple of towns over. Never did anything here. His dad didn't approve. He even went on a couple of dates with one of our receptionists to throw off suspicion you know." Lisbon and Jane exchanged a look but Arthur saw it,

"What?"

"Sounds a lot of trouble to go to for something that is widely accepted Mr Mason." That set the man off,

"Accepted? Yea sure if any of you go out and ask any of them lot what they thought of a gay man they'd all say it was no big deal, no reason to hide but as soon as you are gone and they are all going to be in here, chatting away. They'll be open and admit they are glad he's not here any more so they don't have to worry about how to react around him."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience Mr Mason?"

"Yea of course – I'm siding with a queer so I must be one too," he said bitterly,

"You love your wife. I saw that when you spoke about her. You know this is really going to hurt her." Jane paused, staring intently into Arthur's eyes,

"You had a crush on him though. Not the same as how you fell about her but you did have a thing for him." Jane said, surprising the team. Arthur didn't try to deny it.

"I struggled with my sexuality growing up. I think I wanted to be gay so there was a reason all the kids picked on me. Guess that doesn't really make sense to you." He was rubbing his wedding ring as he spoke.

"How I met Jenny actually. Me and George met in that scary club I was telling you about. It was five years ago now when I was 27, newly promoted here and stupid. Nearly got myself into a whole lot of trouble but the owner he's a good man. He sat me down and set me straight." Artie chuckled.

"George tried to pick me up on my way out and we got to talking. The next week he brought Jenny. She'd wanted to go for a while, check up on her little brother. She has all the best bits of him but in the right package for me. We've been married two years, got a baby on the way. George was really looking forward to being an uncle." He choked in emotion and that was enough sentimentality for the team so Lisbon asked the police officer to take him home.

"Alright Rigsby you and Cho start talking to the people here. Start with Edwards' team and floor, the people who worked closest to him Jane . . . Jane?" she spotted him outside heading for her car and hurried out to catch him. Jumping in the car just before he drove off she demanded to know where he was going.

"I think I know what club Artie was talking about." He didn't look happy she was there (but then it was often difficult to tell how he felt).

"The gay club?"

"I have also had… encounter with one of its owner." Lisbon stared across the car in disbelief,

"You?"

"Yes,"

"In a gay club?"

"What?"

"There something you want to tell me?" she tried to joke,

"That attitude is exactly what Artie was talking about." He said righteously,

"What?"

"Lots of non-gay people go into gay clubs,"

"I know that but you?"

"Sure."

"What for?"

"What for what?"

"What do you go into a gay club for?"

"I didn't go in for any particular reason," he said evasively and Lisbon could tell he was lying. She didn't know why. She knew being married with a kid didn't mean he couldn't be gay but he had loved his wife passionately, maybe he was bi or bi-curious. She spent the thirty-minute journey pondering Jane and his visit to the club (as well as thinking about her current case). Jane spent the time thinking about the case (and worrying about taking Lisbon to the club).

FB

Patrick jerked into consciousness as car lights lit up the bush he'd crawled under. The light set his head pounding and he groaned sitting up slowly. He didn't remember leaving the bar last night, or how he'd made his where here (wherever here was). The memory loss didn't worry him instead he wished he could lose more. His families' funeral was barely three days ago and he'd been in an alcoholic haze since: he found a bar, drank until he was kicked out, passed out somewhere and then found another bar. It was a routine he intended to keep until he died. That, as far as he was concerned, couldn't come fast enough.

"I love you and I miss you," he whimpered to his dead family. Dragging himself to his feet he looked around. He backed away quickly, too quickly and fell over. He kept moving backwards though hands and feet working in an uncoordinated fashion to get him as far away as possible. In front of him was his house, that house where his life had ended. He backed into a neighbour's wall and shuddered to a halt. Their dog barked but Jane barely flinched, the memory of walking in that night replaying in his mind.

"Who's there?" a shaky voice called out into the night. Jane didn't answer, didn't see or hear the person getting closer.

"It's Patrick, Eleanor get a blanket!" still Jane heard nothing. By the time he was aware of his two elderly neighbours they were wrapping a blanket around him and hauling him to his feet.

"Come inside you poor man," Thomas said soothing but Patrick sought to get away. He didn't want comforting; he didn't need it. He was too weak to resist though and was soon sitting on their sofa. The man of the house was running him a bath and the lady was stroking his arm. She disappeared to make him something to eat while he was stripped; lifted into the bath and washed all the while Thomas whispered calming words to him. It felt so good to be comforted in this way that Patrick couldn't fight it.

When a guy from the studio had come to speak to him, all Patrick could see was the unholy glee at the probability of higher ratings. He had punched the man, leapt on him like a possessed animal. His knuckles were still red. He had stayed away from friends and colleagues after that. They couldn't understand and he didn't want their sympathy.

"I'm not hungry," he whispered when Thomas had tucked up in a bed and Eleanor presented him with a plain ham and cheese sandwich.

"Not look son; you need to eat, so eat." Thomas was a tough old goat. Patrick remembered that and then he remembered how much his wife and liked the couple and tears fell. It took him an hour but he finished the meal. His neighbours sat with him in silence the whole time. Then he quickly fallen asleep and they had left. When he woke it was with a clearer head and a greater yearning to die. He slipped out the back to avoid looking at his old house.

From there he quickly made his way to the central part of town. Thomas's words were echoing in his ears,

"She wouldn't want you to give up,"

"You're strong enough to survive this" and even unbelievable,

"It wasn't your fault."

"You trying to die, is that it?" the old man had asked then going for the more brutal approach when Patrick hadn't reacted,

"Taking the cowards' way out – she would want you to fight. Your wife would want you to live on and find happiness, in the future. To live your life and remember her." It was the last thing he'd said that had stayed with Patrick though,

"She suffered Patrick, she suffered and the least you could do is suffer too," of course the old man had meant suffer by living. But Jane had no intention of living. And if that made him weak he didn't care. The old man was right though. She had suffered and if he was going to die he would need to suffer too. He saw that as he headed across the city. It made sense now he was thinking more clearly. He would find someone to make him suffer and then he would die.

End FB

As it turns out his old neighbour had slipped a sleeping pill into his sandwich and his thinking was anything but clear: he was running through the suburbs in borrowed pyjamas at half one in the morning. It was a testament to his determination that he found his way to that club a place he knew about but never thought he would visit. A nightclub and more; a master, dominatrix or even a sub or two for hire and spare rooms filled with sex toys that club goers could rent out. It was fairly underground; law enforcement agencies knew about but only took an interest if something went wrong. For that reason they were very careful with who was admitted and who could pay for the services they offered. A drugged, distraught and suicidal psychic was definitely off the cards.

"This it?" Lisbon asked sceptically. From the outside it looked like an empty warehouse. It even had some smashed windows. Jane smiled at her,

"You judging a book by its cover?" he asked,

"Isn't that how YOU judge a book?"

"I can tell a lot from a cover," he smirked and led her to the entrance. He knocked three times with varying pauses, giving the impression there was a secret knock.

"Who is it?" a high pitch voice asked from the other side,

"Police, open up,"

"But officer I wasn't expecting guests," the voice protested and the door stayed motionless,

"Paulie open up I want to speak to Melanie," Jane requested.

"Patrick? Patrick is that you?" the heavy metal door opened and a six foot plus giant appeared, squealed and rushed over hugging Jane close to his body and lifting him off the ground.

"You promised you'd visit," he said suddenly sour and dropped Jane on his feet with a thud.

"I'm sorry I've been busy," Lisbon watched the exchange with disbelief – Jane came across as rather closed off and undemonstrative.

"Well you certainly look better than the last time you were here," he said with approval. Jane caught sight of the shocked look on Lisbon's face and suppressed a smile. Paulie was a big, black man with bulging muscles dressed in tight fit clothes and wearing makeup. His voice did not suit his physic but neither did his personality.

"Thank you."

"My Rolo is fine – we're still together. My fiery little Latin lover still pinches me in all the right places . . ." Patrick had to interrupt or he feared the bouncer would go on for awhile,

"Paulie this is Teresa Lisbon we're here about the murder of a client of Melanie's."

"Oh no not Jason! I really like Jason or Peter its Peter isn't it he was always my favourite . . . "

"George Edwards?"

"Melanie doesn't have a client named George, unless he uses a fake name when he's here. Some people just can't admit they come here. It's so sad,"

"Can we come in and talk to her?" Lisbon was getting irritated,

"Oh I'm so sorry, yes of course. Melanie is setting up the naughty room. Come on in." Lisbon looked around in interest. The entrance was massive and she saw there was an interior wall,

"Some of the clients are screamers," Paulie explained with a high pitch laugh.

"It's a night club," Jane corrected.

The place had lots of lighting but it was all dim, black and red paint and hanging cloth. Black metal and dark wood – it looked like the set of some vampire film. The left opened up into a dance floor, stage and bar. Lisbon gazed in surprise at the sight of hanging caging – she thought they were only found in cinema. Her eyes found Jane's laughing ones and she frowned kicking herself for making it easy for him to tease her.

"Melanie and Matthew Hart are twins that have run this place for over ten years." Jane explained as Paulie led them to the right, down a dark narrow corridor.

"George was gay – wouldn't he have been a client of Matthew's?" Lisbon asked and Paulie snorted with laughter.

"Matthew dealt exclusively with the club side of things and Melanie is in charge of all the … employee's this side. She checks out everyone so everyone who comes here is her client and she'll know who George was assigned too." Jane explained and Lisbon was amazed to see the faint shade of a blush.

"Oh my," Lisbon said as Paulie led them into the large 'naughty' room. Painted all black hanging black and red cloth sectioned bits of the room. Equipment she had no understanding of was spread about.

"Patrick!" a tiny blond woman called, she was dressed in jeans and a football jersey but had a thick layer of white foundation on her face and thick ruby red lipstick. She was sat on some kind of torture instrument and waved them over to her.

"Hi Melanie," Patrick was definitely blushing now and Lisbon stared at him in wonder.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

FB

Drunk club goers and sore but happy clients laughed as they passed Patrick on his way to the front door.

"Pyjama night was last month,"

"He's sleep clubbing,"

"He wants the music turned down."

Were some of the more polite things called to him but he ignored everyone. At the door he demanded to be allowed in.

"No drunks," the large doorman had said over and over to Patrick while smiling and joking with other customers. One small Latino man pinched his bum as he left with a large group. Patrick watched intently as the big man pouted at him and frowned as he walked away. After the man had gone Patrick said,

"If you let me in I'll tell you how to show him you love him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the bouncer muttered checking his nails and turning to face the other way.

Patrick had smiled and that was how he got in.

Once inside he went straight into the club and he stood in the corner by the bar. It must have been nearly four in the morning but the place was still heaving. Only strobe lighting lit the room, except for fake candle lighting over the long bar. The music had a heavy beat but was fairly romantic so couples filled the dance floor. Men and woman queued to strut their stuff in a cage. Patrick looked around searching for the right man. A couple of men tried to chat him up as he stood against the wall but he knew they were not what he wanted so he bluntly told them to move away. Then a couple asked him for a threesome and that peaked his interest but again neither of them had the raw, hungry eyes he knew his wife had seen . . . he took a controlled breath and waved them away.

Suddenly the crowd cheered and parted and a tiny woman appeared by his side. She didn't look at him but just watched the crowd with him.

"New here?" she asked,

"Busy," was all he said,

"I'm Melanie and this is my club." She said.

"I know,"

"Really? How do you know that? I would've remembered you if you'd been here before."

"I saw how the crowd reacted to you. Easy deduction."

"Well some people are worried about you," she said and turned to look him up and down. He ignored her.

"What are you looking for?"

"I want to hurt," he said and looked her daringly in the eye. She was dressed in tight black leather but her skin glowed white with makeup. Her lips were thin and coated in a dark purple lipstick.

"Why?" she said not in the least bit put off by his blunt reply.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"You're an attractive man maybe I'm interested," Patrick laughed,

"You don't have what I want."

"And what's that?"

He looked her up and down and smiled darkly in answer, his lips pressed tightly together.

"I can do better than the real thing," she said seductively and ran her hand up his chest and down his arm, all the way to his hand. Her fingertips wrapped around his wedding ring and he pulled away, bringing it up to his chest, protecting it.

"Well now, I am intrigued." She said lowering her hand and turning to face the room again.

Patrick looked past her to where a tall, broad shouldered man was sneering over a small, scared looking man. Melanie followed his gaze and frowned. She huffed and stormed over to them. After a rather short conversation the man reddened and left. Patrick's' eyes followed him as he stormed towards the exit, shoving past people.

"Perfect," he thought,

"This was who I need."

Melanie returned to Patrick's side just as he straightened off the wall and started to follow.

"Woo, hey where you going?" she questioned holding onto his arm.

"To get what I need." He said and pulled free.

"Well," he heard her say before the crowd swallowed him.

As he tried to walk out the door though Paulie wrapped his thick arms around him, lifted him clean off the ground and started carrying him to the right of the building: down a corridor where whimpers and screams penetrated the walls. Patrick shouted and struggled but he was no match for the soft-spoken bouncer.

"Relax I thought this was what you wanted." Melanie cooed. Patrick froze and then struggled harder, suddenly terrified.

"Let me go!" he tried to scream but not sound much escaped with his face pressed tight into the muscled chest of Paulie.

The large man dropped Patrick and landed sandwiched between the bouncer and something cold and metal. The big guy stepped back, twirled him around and quickly tied him to whatever it was.

"You look too nice to want a session with the beast," he said sadly and then left. Melanie stood by the door watching him.

Patrick steadied his breathing – this is what he was here for. So he hadn't chosen the guy so what? It's not as if his wife . . . Patrick pulled his thoughts from that dark place and waited, staring expectantly at Melanie. She slid a graceful step closer to the door, reached out and banged it three times.

Patrick held his breath as it opened slowly.

END FB

"Remember this?" Melanie asked Jane and tapped a metal restraint shaped like a cross. Lisbon's breathe caught in her throat as she imagined her irritating (and disobedient) consultant tied to it: stilled, helpless and finally under her control.

Melanie watched her reaction with interest.

"Yes," he answered shortly and Lisbon forced herself to focus on the case, not on Jane's past.

"We'll ask the questions," she said forcefully.

"Of course how can I help you detective?"

"It's agent, Agent Lisbon,"

"FBI?"

"CBI. We are investigating the murder of a possible client of yours."

"Did you bring a picture? Most of my clients are so shy," she smiled at Jane and Lisbon felt confused and angrily possessive.

"George Edwards." She answered and pulled a photo from the folder she'd been carrying.

"Oh Liam," Melanie ran a finger over the photo gently and sighed,

"He was so young. What happened?"

"We think someone from his office found out he was gay," Jane answered.

"That would be enough – he was always talking about the lowlife scum his brother-in-law hired on the cheap. But how would they have found out? Liam was always so careful?"

"That's what we were hoping you could help us with."

"How? Liam varied the days and times he visited. He'd park and eat at that little café down the road, walk here and hire out a motel near there. He always paid us in cash, never took a receipt."

"In the past month has he gotten into any fights or arguments?"

"No I don't think so Paulie?"

"No Melanie I never saw him argue with anyone."

"Can we speak to his …?" Jane hesitated and flushed,

"Sure sugar, Liam had a sub … the beast,"

FB

In the doorway stood the tallest, bulkiest man Patrick had ever seen. He wore leather trousers with silver stubs down the sides. Two silver studded strips of leather crossed his chest and his face was covered by a leather mask that had eye, nose and mouth slits. Every inch of skin not covered by leather had a tattoo covering it – a fire breathing dragon, a skeleton riding a motorbike; classic hard man. His teeth were barred and he huffed caveman style as he entered the room. Taking long deliberate strides he was soon an inch away, almost pressing against Patrick.

The physic forced himself to breathe deeply and stare into the cold, emotionless eyes. The stench of leather clogged his nose and caught in his throat. Tied as he was he had nowhere to go to escape it. The man huffed again and his breath sat on Patricks face hot and musty. He tensed further and closed his eyes as the beast slowly moved his hand. He placed it under Patrick's pyjama top and gently squeezed the soft muscles above his stomach. The touch was too much for Patrick who suddenly cried out,

"Stop, please, stop, I don't want this, stop, stop," like a bursting dam Patrick couldn't stop himself.

Melanie clicked her fingers and the beast backed away, head down and fell onto his knees. Patrick missed it too busy trying to breathe through tears and relief. He was shocked when Melanie said,

"Good boy," and rubbed her hand over the giants head. The kneeling man whimpered and rested his head against her breasts (even knelt he was that tall next to her).

"Are you alright?" she said now speaking to Patrick who wanted to cry again at the question.

"I don't want to hurt." He whispered shamed.

"I realised as much. May I ask why you thought you did?"

"I should do, I want to want to,"

"Because of your wife?" she guessed. Patrick looked from her to the man kneeling at her feet.

"Timmy needs a little comforting after I asked him to play brute – he doesn't like it much but you can just ignore him."

And Patrick found he did very easily. Unable to move, tied in an uncomfortable position he told her all about the past two weeks and Melanie and Timmy listened in silence without judgement.

End FB

Melanie laughed at his flinch and the harsh sound grated on Lisbon.

"Where is he?" she asked,

"Where I left him," Melanie leisurely got to her feet and motioned them to follow her.

"Timmy's not your sub anymore?" Jane asked,

"Sugar Timmy's anyone's sub. That's why I have to keep such a close eye on him."

"I don't understand," Lisbon admitted."

"Agent, Timmy is kinda like a big kid only instead of wanting toys and candy he wants toys and cock."

"Blunt Melanie," Jane complained,

"Yes I am sugar." She took them further down the corridor. Paulie had disappeared somewhere. Finally she unlocked a door marked private. A screen hid the room from view and considering the pornographic sounds Lisbon and Jane were very grateful.

"Wait here – unless you think you can handle it?" she dared and Jane backed Lisbon outside again,

"We'll wait out here," he said and closed the door.

"What the hell Jane?" Lisbon may not have wanted to take the small irritating woman up on her offer but she didn't appreciate Jane making her mind up.

"You didn't want to look," he said,

"Maybe I did,"

"Really?" Lisbon stopped her instinctual reaction long enough to ask,

"What's in there?"

"Sounded like a fu . . . you know what why don't you go see for yourself? "

"You're right I don't wanna know." She agreed.

They waited in the corridor for a long time before the door opened again. Timmy A.K.A the beast stood before them wearing his leather mask and oddly a loose t-shirt and baggy trousers. Melanie stood pressed against his side and Jane saw him visible fight to stay on his feet – Lisbon's forceful personality sending 'submit' vibes through him.

"Timmy I need to ask you some questions about George Edwards." She showed him the picture and waited for a response. Melanie nudged him,

"Yes ma'am," he said and Lisbon frowned,

"Can we talk to you alone?" Patrick watched as the giant of a man flinched and pressed closer to Melanie.

"That'll be just fine Timmy, you answer all their questions and I'll be right in there if you need me. Patrick will come get me ok?" she said gently. Timmy tensed as she went back through the door.

"Ok Timmy can you tell me about the last time you saw George. Was he acting any differently?" Agent Lisbon automatically softened her voice and spoke gently.

"No ma'am … he treated me the same way as always." Lisbon fought to keep from asking more about that,

"He didn't say or do anything out the ordinary?" Timmy hesitated just long enough for Patrick to consider getting Melanie,

"It's ok you're not going to get in trouble," Lisbon seemed to be treating him like she would a victim or grieving family.

"Ma'am … he was upset about something."

"Do you know what?"

"Yes ma'am his brother-in-law had asked him to not see his girlfriend anymore. Liam said Artie said she was getting too serious."

"Anything else?"

"No ma'am,"

"Ok thank you for your time. If you think of anything else please give me a call ok?" she handed him a card, ignoring the red marks around his wrists.

They started back down the long corridor but looked back at the sound of a soft thud. Timmy was on his knees, hands on the floor head pressed against Melanie as she stroked his mask.

"Are you going to tell me how you know those people?" Lisbon asked when they were outside and nearing the car. He stayed quiet.

"You want me to guess?" she questioned with a wicked grin. Jane stood by the passenger side of the car and looked across it to stare seriously at her.

"After the funeral I wanted to hurt and die. Melanie helped me see I wanted revenge more." He said quickly and got in the car leaving a concerned Lisbon staring at where he'd been. When she got in the car she drove off, trying to think of something to say.

Ten minutes later Lisbon's phone rang.

"Lisbon?"

"You shouldn't use that while driving," Jane said,

"Really?" Lisbon said into the handset ignoring him,

"Ok then." Jane went back to staring out the window.

"Alright get Rigsby to hang around for the report. I'll see you back at the office," she hung up and looked over at Jane,

"What?"

"That was Van Pelt. Police found the body of Hannah Berk a couple of hours ago. She was the receptionist Artie told us about. Apparently she committed suicide. Her note said she killed him after he told her he was gay and broke up with her."

"So that's the end of the case?" Jane was irritated he had opened himself up for ridicule by taking Lisbon to that place for no reason but he didn't show it. He just sat at back in his seat and acted like he was looking forward to a rest before the next case.

"I'll have Rigsby check the coroners report but yea looks like," Lisbon wished all cases was as easy and looked across at where Jane seemed to already be fast asleep. She knew him too well to be taken in by his nonchalant act but she let him, wanting a peaceful drive so she could think about what he had told her. He had spoken at length about his plans to kill Red John but she had always hoped it was a dream. She didn't want to be the one to arrest him – or worse find his body if he ever achieved it and was still suicidal. She would have to stay close and if the time came be there to try and talk him out of it. Remind him he had friends and a life.

FIN


End file.
